


the crownless again shall be king

by asthiathien



Series: renewed shall be blade that was broken [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Depression, F/M, M/M, No Happy Endings For You, Non-Canonical Character Death, Not A Fix-It, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Spoilers for Battle of Five Armies, Thorin Angst, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:50:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3235232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asthiathien/pseuds/asthiathien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield did not die on the battlefield, but he might as well have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the crownless again shall be king

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry?
> 
> EDIT: This story can be read on its own or as part of a series.

Thorin Oakenshield did not die on the battlefield, but he might as well have.

The dwarrow of Erebor speak in whispers of Thorin entering the battle after shaking off the curse of his line, bursting into the fray with a power that had been at the time hailed as mighty and courageous, but with the passage of time is recognized for the suicidal charge of a dwarf who intended to clear the shame of his crimes by dying upon the field of battle.

And while only two yet among the living know all of what occurred upon Ravenhill and both of those refuse to speak of it, every dwarrow has some inkling of what happened.

Fíli, Crown Prince of Erebor for all that he never got the chance to wear that title, was slaughtered by Azog the Defiler, murdered coldly before his uncle before his body was flung to the ice in the same manner as one might toss away a broken dagger. Kíli, Prince of Durin’s Line, fought to avenge his brother and defend his elven One before he was run through by Bolg.

And Bilbo Baggins, beloved of Thorin II Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, flung himself in between Azog and his love to take the blade meant for the dwarven king. And Thorin had taken up Orcrist and utterly slaughtered every dark creature who came anywhere close to his One.

(There is even speculation that Thorin killed a cave-troll in his berserker rage, though only the king and his beloved witnessed that battle and Thorin will tell no one about that day.)

But after there remained no being who could threaten Bilbo, Thorin had knelt beside the Hobbit and begged him desperately to stay alive, to just keep breathing until Óin could find them.

And Bilbo had smiled up at Thorin and granted him his forgiveness, given him his love, and then, as blood speckled his lips and his breath rattled in his throat, looked up at the sky and murmured with his dying breath, “Look, Thorin, the Eagles. . . the Eagles are coming. Everything will be alright now, you’ll see.”

And the hollow, keening wail that greeted those final words was heard across the battlefield as Thorin wept freely for the loss of his One, his brave little Hobbit who had journeyed so far and done so much for him.

And ultimately given his life so that Thorin might live.

The army, led by Dáin, found them there, Dwalin standing protectively over his king, axes to hand, as Thorin cradled Bilbo’s bloodstained body to his chest and stared into the distance with unseeing eyes.

Thorin gave no protest as they took Bilbo’s body away to be dressed in proper funeral garb, as Balin and Óin gently took him and began leading him away from the battlefield. At the sight of Kíli with a gaping wound in his chest, Thorin’s eyes widened as if he had been struck but no sound passed his lips.

As Bard returned the Arkenstone with his heartfelt apologies at Fíli and Kíli’s deaths and for allowing the matter to escalate the point of open war, Thorin merely shook his head and pressed the Arkenstone back into his hands, heartbroken eyes saying more than words ever could.

At the funeral of his kin and One, Thorin granted Tauriel the place of honor at his side as she watched her beloved sealed in the rock from which he had been formed. Even as all others cried openly, Thorin remained still and silent, eyes fixed on the horizon and starting with surprise when Balin laid a hand upon his arm. But even then he offered no protest, merely following Balin’s lead as the elderly advisor began leading him away.

Thorin Oakenshield survived the battle, the people of Erebor whisper. But in return, he lost his voice.

* * *

Thorin gives Tauriel and any other members of any race the right to remain in Erebor as long as they might desire, defending his decision from all and sundry by the simple expedient of glaring fiercely at whomever tried to demand Tauriel be removed from the mountain.

But he did not notice how the elven guard captain (former guard captain, now) flinched away from his silent, unyielding defense of her right to remain close to her One, dead and entombed though he might be. He did not notice how she never looked any one of the dwarrow, even the members of the Company, in the eyes.

But he does notice when the doors to the throne room are flung open in the midst of discussion with Bard and Tauriel stalks through, ignoring the dwarven guards trying to halt her. Thorin instinctively steps forward, a wave of his hand halting the guards in their tracks, but Tauriel notices and lunges forward, demanding in a vicious cry that shook the hall, how he did not hate her for capturing them in Mirkwood, how he did not despise her for serving Thranduil, how he did not loathe her for failing to defend his younger sister-son.

At that last, Thorin rocks back a step, breath driven from his lungs as his eyes brim with unshed tears, even as Tauriel drops to her knees, murmuring bitterly how it is her fault that Kíli is dead.

Thorin spins around, fury in his eyes as he lunges forward, shaking his head fiercely as he gestures at himself, then flinging his hands out helplessly in a gesture that somehow encompasses all of the guilt and shame he feels in a single movement.

Tauriel’s eyes widen in understanding and then she bows her head to Thorin, holding her twin daggers (she has not used a bow, not since Kíli fell) out to him as she murmurs an oath of fealty to him, her king. Thorin reaches out to curl her hands back over the blades and lift her to her feet, but she shakes her head furiously and murmurs softly, “I would be honored to serve you, my king.”

And at that, Thorin sighs soundlessly and takes the daggers, approving nod and gesture for the elf to rise providing sufficient recognition and acceptance of the oath.

And if anyone notices how Thorin shoves the blades back into her hands as if they are on fire or how, late that night, Dwalin finds Thorin curled at the base of the throne with tears drying upon his cheeks, then they are wise enough not to say anything.

* * *

Even when he walks, Thorin is utterly silent, drifting through the halls like a ghost despite the heavy weight of the king’s robes and adornments. The golden crown rests upon his brow, but every moment it seems as if he fights a battle not to tear it from his head and fling it across the room with a silent howl of grief and self-loathing.

As the months pass and turn to years, Thorin barely acknowledges the people who speak to him as he wanders. He still reigns with the stubborn, unyielding but ultimately fair nature he showed as king-in-exile in Ered Luin, but he communicates solely through writing and Iglishmêk and, as time passes, sometimes not even that.

He wanders the halls in silence, face pale and drawn and once-bright blue eyes so dark they appear almost black. He rarely manages to find his way to the dining halls in time for meals, and when he does he never eats and it is a struggle to get him to drink even water, not to mention Óin’s potions meant to stave off the effects of constant malnourishment and sleep deprivation.

The Company searches for him, as does almost every dwarf in Erebor should they realize their king is missing, and occasionally this massive effort manages to locate the king but more often than not he disappears for days on end, the vast halls of Erebor far too large to find a single dwarf who does not want to be found.

Five years after the Quest, Thorin collapses from utter exhaustion, Dwalin and Dori lunging forward to catch him, and for a few days they are able to tend to him properly before their king and liege-lord sets off on his silent wanderings once more and all they are able to do is follow after him and hope that he will still be alive when they find him at the end of the road.

Through the years, the Company and eventually every inhabitant of Erebor and Dale try to catch Thorin and keep him from disappearing into the shadows with naught but his dark memories to keep him company, but Thorin is like smoke as he slips through their fingers and, try as they might, they cannot catch him.

* * *

_The crownless again shall be king._

But, the people whisper as they watch Thorin sitting in grieving silence upon his throne, the crown upon his head the brightest thing about him, they do not tell of the price that must be paid for the throne.


End file.
